Rebel Sisters by Marita Conlon-Mckenna Page B

arts world.
    â€˜Then we will find the costumes we need and ready ourselves for Sunday,’ smiled Nora Dryhurst as she sipped a second cup of tea.

Chapter 18
Grace
    EXCITED BY THE prospect of Mr Russell’s costume party, Grace dressed as an Egyptian, wearing an off-white robe that was patterned with gold and fashioning a golden headband to go with it. She had borrowed a black silk cummerbund of her father’s, which she wrapped tightly around her middle, and used heavy black liner to define her eyes in the Egyptian style. Pleased with the rather striking result, she turned to help Muriel, who was wearing a green and pink floral-patterned silk gown which was meant to resemble some kind of Chinese robe. Grace braided her sister’s long red hair with a ribbon and showed her how to highlight her eyes. John chose a sweeping length of purple chiffon she had bought only a few weeks ago and wound it around her so that it vaguely resembled an Indian sari. Ernest had hunted through the house and was dressed like a Russian peasant, with boots, purple and green patterned waistcoat and a fur hat. Standing together, they created a rather bizarre-looking theatrical spectacle.
    Mother was visiting some friends for the evening but Father stepped out into the hallway on hearing the commotion as they got ready to leave.
    â€˜Where are you all off to?’ he asked, taking in their attire. ‘A fancy-dress party, is it?’
    The evening was warm and dry and, as they walked to George Russell’s house on Rathgar Avenue, their strange attire attracted much attention from passers-by. When the large, bearded figure of Mr Russell opened the door, Grace could see immediately that their literary host was both amused and surprised at their appearance. Nora Dryhurst appeared and immediately ushered them inside the crowded drawing room to introduce them to the assembled company of artists and writers.
    â€˜You all look divine,’ she gushed. She herself was attired in a deep-green gown with a billowing skirt and a wrapover tartan scarf. She announced the Giffords as if they were some type of famous heroic figures.
    â€˜Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce the wonderful spirits from a bygone age – Deirdre, Fionnuala, Grania and of course the Great Cuchulainn himself,’ she proclaimed with a flourish.
    Looking around the book-filled room, Grace could see the other guests staring at them, torn between mirth and bewilderment at their clothing, for no one else was in costume as they had been told, but in conventional dresses and skirts, suits and jackets. Ernest was absolutely horrified at the position they were in. Grace, deeply embarrassed and humiliated by their appearance, just wanted to escape.
    â€˜Don’t be so self-conscious and shy,’ urged an unrepentant Nora, pleading with them to enjoy the company and party, but the four of them fled to the safety of a smaller front room which was unoccupied except for a man sitting petting a dog.
    â€˜Let’s go home,’ Muriel begged. ‘I don’t want to stay. I’m so embarrassed.’
    â€˜Nor do I,’ agreed Grace, disappointed that the salon she had so looked forward to attending was such a disaster. She pulled the golden band from her head.
    Curious, the little dog came over to them to sniff at their brother’s boots and Russian costume.
    â€˜Do you like dogs?’ the man interrupted, showing no reaction to the way they were dressed. For some reason he too had obviously sought sanctuary away from Mr Russell’s other guests.
    â€˜We thought it was a costume party,’ explained Ernest apologetically. ‘That is why we are dressed up in these ridiculous costumes.’
    â€˜I expected tonight that only two or three other writers would attend,’ the man confided. ‘George asked me to come along to read him some of the poems from my collection, but I certainly did not expect such a large and illustrious